


I'mma Stand In Fire While I Let You Do The Running

by AnotherGallavichLove



Series: Prompts [95]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: 5x12, Angst, Break Up, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-06-04 15:44:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6664597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherGallavichLove/pseuds/AnotherGallavichLove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on this prompt: Could you write a story where in 5x12 when Ian calls Mickey, he doesn't respond. Then Ian goes to him, Mickey is angry with him and he breaks up with Ian because he is tired and sick of Ian's behavior and to be considered by him like shit. With a lot of angst!!!!</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'mma Stand In Fire While I Let You Do The Running

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Valentina's '2 Painful 2 Remember'

Mickey’s eyebrows knitted together in annoyance as he was slowly but surely torn out of his sleep by the cellphone vibrating on his nightstand. His hand clenched together into a fist as he woke up more and more with every second that passed, soon enough awake enough that he could register what the annoying, buzzing sound was. His lips parted a little bit as his eyes opened; he reached out for the device, lifting it up and looking at Ian’s picture. The same one that he had once been so entranced by. Ian with his fucking green beanie, that long finger up in the air, flipping the camera off. He had been so perfect - he still was. Just… not mentally. It wasn’t that Mickey didn’t understand that Ian was sick, and it wasn’t that he would ever blame him for that. But lately it hadn’t only felt as if it was the disorder talking through Ian; it had felt as if Ian was truly growing into another person. Growing out of his love for Mickey. And because of that, Mickey had to admit that he was suffering a little bit.

 

So he let it ring. And he didn’t pick up. Not the first time, and not the second time. Not the eighth time either.

 

  
***

 

  
Quite a few hours later - well into the hours of the night and the sundown, Mickey was alone in the Milkovich house, sitting on the couch with his hand lazily wrapped around a green glass bottle, eyes on an old episode of the walking dead; not that he was really watching or listening right now. He wasn’t really drinking either for that matter, it just felt natural to hold the bottle as he let his mind stir over all of this. He had by now figured out that Ian was back home, and he knew that a good boyfriend would go over to the Gallagher house as soon as possible and make sure that he had everything that he needed - and that he was going to be alright after everything.

 

But ultimately - Mickey was exhausted. He was exhausted because even he could see that he was being treated like shit. He was exhausted because he shouldn’t have to live like this - they shouldn’t have to live like this. He shouldn’t have to save Ian over and over again when Ian wouldn’t even begin to admit that something was wrong with him. Mickey knew now that if Ian didn’t want any help, then trying to help him was pretty fucking useless. It wouldn’t get either of them anywhere good. Mickey was sick of taking care of people who gave him nothing in return.

 

Which was why, when the three knocks hit the front door from the outside - the ones that Mickey now immediately recognized as Ian’s type of knocking, he swallowed roughly, and he took a large gulp of his beer. He knew what he had to do. Mickey felt as if he had tried anything and everything to even begin to try to attempt getting Ian back onto his feet. Nothing had worked. And if Mickey wanted to stay alive, stay healthy, then… he knew that he couldn’t be stuck here anymore. Feeling like a robot created to take care of people. Take care of a boyfriend who didn’t seem to even realize that he should be appreciating it.

 

“Hey” Was what Ian said when Mickey opened the creaky door. It was difficult for Mickey to keep his face straight, to not talk himself out of this, because Ian looked fucking better than ever, somehow highlighted by the streetlights in the background. The red hair was messed up, a few strands falling down over his forehead, his hands buried deep inside of the pockets of his large jacket. He looked exhausted; cried out. It stung Mickey that Ian had been crying and he hadn’t been there to hold him, but at the same time he realized that this was the mindset that he needed to somehow manage to crawl out of. Because the truth was - Mickey couldn’t remember the last time that he had cried, and Ian had been there to hold him. “Mick, why aren’t you answering your phone?” Ian’s voice was flat, maybe mirroring some confusion and possibly some kind of irritation.

 

“Ian, I don’t think…” Mickey begun, blue eyes deep into green as he swallowed roughly, gathering up some more strength and courage. He needed to do this, and he needed to do this now. If he waited, or if he attempted to somehow dance around it, he wouldn’t get anywhere at all, and he would be stuck in the same mud that he had been for months - maybe years. “I can’t do this anymore”

 

Ian’s face had been neutral, but somehow it still managed to fall at the words, his lips parting a little bit as the bump in his throat bopped up and down while he tried to wrap his mind around the older man’s words.

 

“You’re breaking up with me?” Mickey couldn’t quite decipher what was in the tone of Ian’s words, but he knew that it wasn’t pure sadness. It was possible that he was feeling surprised - even offended. “But you’ve been there, Mickey. Through everything - “

 

“What about you, huh? Where you been?” It was a rhetorical question, of course. They both knew that. Mickey swallowed, forcing his tears back as he let go of the door, crossing his arms over his chest as they just stood there. Maybe this wasn’t fair - maybe he should have sat Ian down and had a long conversation, but all of that shit had never really been their thing. Besides, this was difficult enough without having to talk through their entire relationship bit by bit. Mickey just wanted to distance himself from Ian so that he could sooner or later start to let go. Maybe. Fuck knows how he was planning to do that after everything that they had been through together, but he needed to try.

 

“Mickey, I - “

 

“Save it, Gallagher” There wasn’t much anger or heat in Mickey’s voice. He was just… done. “Save it for someone who’s willing to put up with your shit. I’m not anymore, man” Mickey knew that if he looked into those green eyes any longer, then he would crack. So after those words, he took a few steps back into the house, closing the door in Ian’s face and leaning his forehead against the wood, letting the tears flow down his cheeks.

 

This was for the best. Someday he would truly start to believe that.


End file.
